La Push Pebbles
by teabizarre
Summary: The only rocks missing were the ones from La Push. It was the one place he couldn't go. EdwardxBella


La Push Pebbles

Edward/Bella

_A/N: This is an alternative to p. 64 of Eclipse, where Edward took Bella's truck apart to stop her from going to La Push. _

I stamped my way up the stairs and went straight to my window. I shoved the metal frame roughly—it crashed shut and the glass trembled.

I stared at the shivering black glass for a long moment, until it was still. Then I straightened up and looked around my room. It was as messy as usual, and utterly indefensible against a determined vampire. Sucking in a deep breath, I turned my back to the window and the vampire lingering somewhere below.

Obviously, the promise of staying away extended only as far as my bedroom, and only as long as I was awake to guard it.

Blinking away the tears of rage, I glared at my bed. If I slept, I would dream; if I dreamt, I would talk; and I did not want my unconscious thoughts to materialize as speech.

So sleeping, it appeared, was out of the question.

I kicked angrily at the bed, which squeaked in protest. I felt betrayed—though Edward was always stressing the differences between my kind and his to his detriment, he'd never flaunted it to the extent that it inhibited my choices. He was always going on about giving me as much as I wanted, but implicit was the unspoken qualification that it had to be something _he_ wanted as well.

Keeping me human; keeping me from seeing my best friend. The things I wanted the most...that he denied.

The fury that settled in me was so overwhelming, it felt like an elastic bubble wrapped tightly around me. I knew, had I not been so angry, I would not have been able to think the things I now did. But they washed through my brain, pricking as they went...

He pretended to be so certain of me, liked to think that I was a sure thing, even. I'd never given him any reason to doubt this; I'd never wanted to, because it would have been a lie. But.

Hadn't he once assumed that, because I was human, I would forget? _He_ could not move on. _He_ couldn't change. But _I_ still could. I so nearly had, a few months ago...

Jacob was another choice, one he didn't want me to have.

What other choices were there?

* * *

I did not sleep, though after another hour of silent pondering I snapped off my light and stared at my reflection in the window. My expression was very calm, even serene. It matched my resolution: I would not have my choices taken away from me, and for once—for however long this fury lasted and kept my addiction to Edward away—I would consider those choices.

The hours ticked steadily past. Soon, I was fighting fatigue, as the fury ebbed into frustration and mute anger, leaving me drained. But instead of giving in to it, I went downstairs and poured myself a big glass of coke, and settled in to wait out the night.

Once, I thought I saw a shadow flashing past the kitchen window, so quickly and silently I might have thought it was just my imagination, if I hadn't known any better. From then on, I kept my face carefully blank and cold, and my back to the windows.

At first light, with rain drumming a miserable tune on the leaves of the pervasive forest, I got ready, lingering on my hair and splashing cold water on my face. The serene expression was fixed in place.

I made breakfast, surprising Charlie with fried eggs and bacon. He was still grumpy from the weekend away thing (something else I was reconsidering—after all, they were _my_ tickets) and embarrassed by the sex talk, but my mood soon lifted his own, and he watched my careful serenity with growing pleasure.

He was being observant again.

"Everything okay?" he asked, when I snatched up his empty plate to put in the sink.

I smiled at him. "Everything is great," I said, knowing that more than just my dad and I were listening in. I was surprised that Edward hadn't pressed his face up to the window. I knew him well enough to guess that it probably cost him something to stay in the forest.

Like a few young saplings.

I smiled wider to myself, gleeful and feckless. Oh, what the hell. He had it coming.

I left the house with Charlie, primping the truck's keys in my right palm.

"You're gonna be kind of early?" Charlie observed, unused to my scholastic enthusiasm.

I just shrugged and smiled again, pushing down the locks and starting the truck. It roared happily, like nothing had ever been wrong with it.

As soon as I saw Jake again, I'd ask him to give me a few pointers. I'd've liked to know what it _was_ that Edward had removed last night—and in future, if the situation ever called for it—what to do about it.

What, with the truck being a gazillion years old, it probably wasn't a bad idea anyway.

"See you tonight," I called to Charlie, throwing the truck into reverse and stomping down on the pedal.

The streets were wet and empty, the drizzle picking up and then fading away as I covered the two miles at a steady pace. Despite my lethargic driving, the school grounds were still mostly deserted. There were only three other vehicles in the parking lot. One of them was a silver Volvo, and its sole passenger was leaning against its side.

I parked across the lot, at the end farthest from the school, next to a used Sentra.

"Hey Bella!" Taylor called. He and Mike were huddled by his car—when he waved, he had a handful of CDs.

"Bella," Mike said, flashing me a smile. His eyes had already darted between the parked Volvo and Edward's bitingly still figure.

"Hey guys," I said, tone friendly. Instead of heading straight into the school, as I would have usually—accompanied by Edward, as was usual—I strolled over to them, pointing at the CDs.

"What's that?" I asked.

"We're having a beach party this weekend," Mike said. The drizzle grew heavier, as if to underscore his words with irony.

"Whose going?" I wondered, reaching for the CDs. Taylor relinquished them with a grin. His eyes had followed Mike's.

"Just our usual gang," Mike said quickly. "Ben and Angela, Eric, us, Jess."

"Lauren?"

Mike grimaced. "Yeah, but you know, she and Jess will probably keep each other busy."

His eyes were looking more and more hopeful—I hadn't shot him down, though he could have hosted a funeral and I'd have grasped at the chance. Maybe a weekend away—though closer than Florida—_was_ what I needed.

"Do you think I can come?" I asked. I peered up through my eyelashes, though my face was merely polite.

"Sure," Taylor acquiesced immediately, but then his enthusiasm faltered as his and Mike's eyes made the circuit to the car farthest from us, and its owner, who had taken out a Spanish book and was looking at it intently, though it was wrong-side up.

"Would you mind giving me a ride, Mike?" I asked him.

Mike's eyes glinted. He'd heard it too—the lean figure by the Volvo had dropped his book. It made a loud _ska-thunk_ when it hit the ground, and there was a distinct mutter of profanity.

"Yeah," Mike agreed readily. "Hey, I'll carry your bag."

He took my bag and slung it over his free shoulder.

"We should probably get to class," I said. "Biology first, right?" I asked them, giving Taylor back the CDs. They were generic dance tunes.

Mike nodded, and as soon as we started to saunter towards the cluster of buildings, his chatter bubbled up.

"Which beach?" I asked, when we reached the shelter of the walkways.

"La Push," he responded, looking puzzled when a wide smile spread across my face.

This was just getting better and better.

The first hour passed easily. Mike did most of the talking. I paid strict attention, asking questions and delivering encouraging comments. It was only after the bell had rung for my next class—one in which he shared me with Edward as a classmate—that he brought up my vampire boyfriend.

"What's Edward doing this weekend?"

Probing to find out whether he'd join the beach party, no doubt.

I shrugged and said, "Studying I think, I'm not sure. They don't do beaches," I added, preemptively, as Alice was trilling beside her brother, both of them standing next to the door to the English room.

"Hey Bella," Alice greeted me. I could see speculation in her eyes. "Mike," she added, spotting him hovering by my shoulder.

"Hey Alice," I said, voice cheery. "Don't you have Spanish?"

She echoed my serenity. "Yes," she said, "I just wanted to say hi...I'll see you at lunch." She gave me a dazzling smile—too knowing for my liking—and danced away. But before she did, she and Edward locked eyes for a second, and his mouth twisted down the tiniest bit.

I was enraged, yes, but still, I wasn't a monster, and for one moment, my resolve faltered. It wasn't that Edward was being intentionally cruel—mostly. He wanted to keep me safe, and I could understand that, but not how my safety and Jacob's presence in my life were necessarily opposing ends of the spectrum.

No, I would not give in on this one, not this time. How much of his coddling had I endured? I'd blown it off as good-natured before, but the thing with Jacob was looking more and more like a control issue. Clutching my books tighter, I ducked into the room and headed for my usual seat, giving Mike a rueful look—mine was several rows away from his.

I felt Edward sit down beside me, but didn't look up. It felt ridiculously like my first few weeks had, beside him in Biology the previous year.

I propped my file open, put my pencil on top, and sat back in my chair, my hands limp in my lap.

Edward was very still, eyes locked on the ceiling. He was oozing nonchalance, but I could see his fingers curling and uncurling on his knee.

More students filed in. I heard one of them whisper, "I was just in the office, Mr Bertie is going to be late, a parent threw a fit..."

I sighed.

Edward's fingers paused mid-fist, and his eyes darted to me.

My face was blank as I stared at the blackboard, rereading notes I'd already taken. So I was a little startled when a small, crumpled ball hit me on the arm and bounced onto the floor.

Looking up, I caught Mike's eyes. He was grinning, but shot Edward an apprehensive glance.

I picked up the little ball and unfolded it.

_Whats up with him?_ he'd written.

I flipped the page over, writing on the back. From the corner of my eye, I saw Edward's eyes narrow at Mike. Had those eyes been radioactive, the paper and its sender would surely have been a mushroom cloud.

I re-crumpled the ball and chucked it. It went wide, but Mike snatched it up so quickly Lauren never had a prayer.

Mike's eyes dashed across the page. He was already smiling when he looked up at me and nodded.

Pleased, I returned my pencil to the desk—but somehow caught it on the wood, stubbing off the tip.

I rummaged around in my pencil case but came up empty. As soon as this realization hit my face, Edward asked, politely, "Do you need a pencil sharpener? Or another pencil?"

He was pointing at his own pencil case, tipping it slightly as to reveal the row upon row of uniform pencils, all sharpened to exactly the same sharpness. It was disconcerting, but not as disconcerting as the enthusiasm with which he offered it to me.

I reluctantly met his eyes, my expression hostile. His face was guarded but eager; apparently, whatever Alice had seen, it was not an easy reprieve, and he was grabbing at any chance to make conversation.

I glowered. It would seem utterly childish to not accept his offer, but I could already feel my lower lip trying to push out into a pout. I did _not_ want to communicate with him. I needed room to think, to really consider, and his pencil-chivalry was not helping.

Because I was sure that, if I accepted the pencil, he would ask for it back later the day—to force communication again. He was immortal; patience was something he excelled at, and he would spin it out in increments, for as long as my silence lasted.

I'd been wrong to come to school today. I needed space, and there was no space here.

I leapt to my feet and quickly gathered up my books.

"Bella?" Edward asked, confused and alarmed at my ferocious expression.

I ignored him and stomped quickly from the room, almost running into Mr Bertie outside.

"Sir," I said, and my voice was so baffled by my sudden decision that it peaked just right, "I'm not—not feeling well, can I be excused?"

He gave me a once-over, but before he could answer, another voice issued out from behind me. I could feel the cool air of his presence beat against my back, and I bristled.

"I'll take her to the infirmary," Edward said, voice low and urgent.

"I can manage Mr Bertie," I said quickly. "There's no need for both of us to miss class."

"She'll need to copy your notes," Mr Bertie pointed out, and I felt like I could kiss him.

I didn't turn around to look at Edward as I departed, though I could guess at his expression. It would start off dark, and then it would become thoughtful—he'd scan around the school until he found Alice, and watch to see if she _saw_ something.

I smirked to myself. For once, I knew something Edward didn't: Alice's vision was no use to him, not until I made decisions that could be seen...

I hurried off quickly, heading in the general direction of the infirmary, but my choices bloomed around me, flowing like a liquid maze or spiderweb.

So many possibilities.

Only one that I wanted.

* * *

I was careful to not make up my mind until the last moment—I tethered several decisions to the present and hoped that the variation would keep Alice and her brother busy long enough so they couldn't head me off. Edward was trapped in English for as long as his patience would hold (not long), and Alice in Spanish for as long as I took to make up my mind. I had only moments, and I had to act quickly and decisively.

I started my truck, thinking I'd like to stop by Charlie at the station. I'd tell him that I'd felt ill—period pain, he would be too uncomfortable to accuse me of truancy or vagrancy, and then I'd follow it up with the goods news: I was staying in Forks this weekend, and none of my plans involved the Cullens.

My truck chugged happily off campus, rain splattering the windscreen once more. I steered carefully, keeping my mind focused solely on what I'd already planned. I pulled up to the station, glad to see that Charlie's car was there, and so was Mark's. That was good. Someone would have to mind the station in the unlikely event of catastrophe hitting Forks.

"Hey Dad," I announced, peering around his cubicle. He was playing Solitaire on the computer. I could hear Mark making coffee in the little kitchen just off the main room with its three desks, and the narrow hallway that led to the (empty) holding cells.

"Bella?" he asked, and his eyes immediately flashed to the round clock on the wall. It wasn't even eleven yet.

"Period pain," I said, leaning against his drawers, "the nurse let me go."

Charlie pursed his lips, but resumed clicking, dragging an ace to the upper-right of the screen.

"Reneé will spring herbal concoctions on you all weekend," he said, and then added, "Guess you're leaving tonight?"

"Actually, no," I said. "I've decided I'd rather go another weekend. Florida won't be much fun if I can't even swim."

Charlie's eyes popped a little at the overshare, and he cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said, and made a non-committal sound in his throat.

"You busy?" I asked, eyeing the screen.

He laughed and leaned back, stretching. I heard his joints pop.

"No," he answered unnecessarily, but obviously catching on to the qualification in my question. "Why? We can't all play truant you know."

"Oh, this would be official police business," I said, trying to look innocent.

Charlie frowned. "Okay, I'll bite."

"I think Billy might have murdered Jacob," I said.

Charlie stared at me blankly.

"You see," I said slowly, "he hasn't been returning my phone calls, and that note—I wonder if it was even his handwriting..."

"Bella, please," Charlie said, rolling his eyes, but he didn't return to his game.

I sighed. "I'm just trying to make good on that balance thing. I want to see Jacob, really," I said, "I even organized something with Mike this weekend at La Push beach, just so I could maybe drop by at Jacob's house..."

"You mean stalk him," Charlie said, shrewdly.

"Well, I _was_ hoping to have the element of surprise on my side, it's true," I admitted.

Charlie read my expression, then smiled.

"I guess it's my duty to check-up on tip-offs."

"Where would the town be without those?"

Charlie snorted. "I'd rather have none than listen to Mrs Stanley's wild speculations every other week. Last week she swore she saw a giant wolf leap over her fence..." He snorted and stood up, picking up his jacket. I straightened up, beaming at him.

"Hey Mark," Charlie called, as we walked out, "I'm going down to La Push for a bit."

"Say hi to Billy for me," Mark said, with his mouth stuffed full by the sound of it.

To my utter, ballooning relief, Charlie's cruiser took without a hitch.

"Are you sure you don't want to lie down in the back?" Charlie asked, and laughed when my expression turned thoughtful. It might help things with Jake if he absolutely did not see me coming, and that thought depressed me endlessly.

But as we drove out of town and passed the first sign warning us that La Push was two miles away, my resolve strengthened again. One way or the other, I had to see Jacob—if only so he could shout at me. I was doing this for him, not me.

"He might not be home yet, though," Charlie remarked, as we pulled up to the little red house.

I grimaced. "Then I'll wait here. You can go back and I'll walk or something."

"You could just have driven up yourself," Charlie pointed out, climbing from the cruiser.

"The truck's been acting up."

Billy opened the door before we could knock. He smiled at Charlie, but when his eyes turned to me they were curious, and maybe even a little cautious. No doubt he was remembering the previous occasion I'd put Charlie onto him, when I'd suspected that Jacob was involved with Sam Uley's gang.

"Hey Billy," I said, trying to keep my voice both friendly and remorseful.

"Heya Bella," he replied. "I'm surprised to see you out so early on a Friday."

"Are the Quileutes the only ones allowed out early?" Charlie asked, as Jacob had appeared behind Billy, even taller than I remembered. His face was dark—he eyed Charlie sullenly. But then the deep-set black shifted to me, and his expression changed from chagrin to surprise.

"Bella?" he asked, repeating Billy's line.

"Hey Jake," I said, and smiled tentatively.

The two men obviously realized they were in the way. Charlie cleared his throat and said, "Could do with some coffee," and pressed past Jacob's tall frame. "Hey, is that a repeat of the Mariners game?" he asked Billy, his voice trailing away as they moved into the heart of the hut.

Jacob and I stood staring at each other. I hated that there was a hesitancy; that I had to think about what I wanted to say, instead of just saying it.

"So how come you're with Charlie?" Jacob asked eventually. He started into the house, towards his room, and I followed gratefully. If he was planning on sitting inside his room, which was roughly the size of a closet, then he was also planning on not getting upset.

"Faked an illness," I admitted, as soon as he'd shut the door. I sat down gingerly on the bed.

"Sorry, the room's a mess," he muttered, wedging in next to me. "Wasn't expecting company." Bitterness lined every word of the last sentence, and he frowned, his eyes roving into shadow.

"I probably should have called. But then you might've pretended to not be here..."

I'd meant it as a joke, but my grin was very faint and Jacob didn't return it.

"Sorry about that," he said, after a minute of silence.

"I don't blame you." My voice sounded sad. "But, being the schmuck that I am, I came to impose myself anyway," I added, and flushed, feeling guilty. Maybe I'd been wrong before—maybe I wasn't doing this for Jacob, who would do well without my interfering, but for myself.

Just like the old days.

I felt suddenly very horrible. I hadn't thought about what would happen, beyond seeing Jacob again. I hadn't thought about what we would need to say, or whether it was right, to flesh out our absence from each other's lives with words. Was it really necessary?

"If you'd rather I left," I offered, my voice slightly hoarse with the tears that I was trying very hard to keep sealed away, "if you don't want me here, Jacob, I'd understand. I just wanted to see you. I haven't seen you in so long..."

"Then why didn't you come earlier?" he asked. His voice was quiet.

"I wanted to. But I didn't know if you'd want to see me. I tried, last night," I admitted, wanting to offer some kind of evidence of how much I'd missed him.

"Tried?" He'd caught the hesitancy around the word, the reluctance, and the anger.

"Yes." I said this through my teeth, my eyes brimming now with tears of rage.

There was a long pause. I could hear Charlie chatter to Billy about an amazing save.

"He wouldn't let you," Jacob stated. "It's him, isn't it? That's why you didn't come earlier."

I chewed on my tongue, the anger flaring up again. "I'm here now," was all I said.

Jacob was quiet a moment. I glanced up to check his face. It had softened a little.

"You're here now," he repeated, and he smiled.

* * *

We didn't have much time to discuss anything—Charlie banged into the room a short while later, saying that he couldn't knock off the whole day. Jacob hugged me tightly at the door, his eyes deprived, for once, of the mutant anger and bitterness that didn't belong there—like clouds before the sun, and I'd managed to clear them up some.

"Will I see you again soon?" he asked, keeping his tone casual—he was standing next to Charlie, and Charlie was being observant again.

"I'm coming to the beach here tomorrow," I said. "With Mike," I added, as Jacob's eyes had narrowed.

I watched as this sunk in. At first, he looked sour, but then he grinned. He'd caught onto the depth of my subterfuge. If he hated Mike, then surely Edward _loathed_ him...

"I'll see you there," he said. "I have to show these townies what to do with that surf that's coming in," he elaborated, for the sake of our fathers.

He stayed out in the rain to wave goodbye until the little house disappeared among the trees, and this engendered in me a relief that I could not wholly explain, but which pleased me. For the first time in weeks, I felt relaxed—well, almost.

"Say, is Edward coming to this beach thing?" Charlie asked casually, feigning disinterest.

I shook my head.

"Did you two have a fight or something?" he probed, glancing from the road to my empty face.

"You wanted me to keep it balanced, Dad," I hedged. "I'm balancing."

Charlie nodded slowly, thoughtful. "That's a good thing," he said, then added, his tone becoming happier, "Jacob was sure happy to see you. I haven't seen him smile like that in ages."

"I enjoyed seeing him too," I said, truthful.

"Yeah," Charlie said, apparently nonchalant, "he's a good boy. Very mature, too. Wonder how much time he spends in the gym," he mused, "he's really well-built."

Charlie gave me a hopeful glance.

"Stop trying to sell me on his virility, Dad, _please,_" I said, with mock-horror.

He chuckled and fell quiet, a blush settling just below his cheekbones.

I spent three hours at the station, then went shopping for dinner. I focused completely on the task at hand, not once looking left or right as I pushed the trolley through the Thriftway. It reminded me of my first few days in Forks—back when everything had been normal, and no vampires or werewolves had obscured my horizon; when I'd still been my own universe, with no foreign suns or moons to interfere.

It felt nice, to be just normal Bella for those few minutes. But as soon as I left the building, I could feel the normalcy disappearing like the rain washing down the gutters and into the storm drains.

One part of it was the two vampires casually loading their groceries into a silver Volvo. The Volvo looked even flashier next to the dull red Chevy, ancient according to its markings, which it had parked next to. There were more than a dozen empty spaces all over the lot, many of them closer to the roof's overhang.

I paused mid-step, eyes narrowing.

Alice grinned at me, her tiny arms overflowing with non-perishables.

"Is there some kind of nuclear disaster en route?" I asked her, my voice without inflection. I moved to the passenger side of the truck, yanking open the door and stuffing the two bags onto the seat. I didn't even pause to blush when one bag tipped over and a can of gravy and a frozen chicken fell out; I just snatched them up immediately.

When I straightened up, Edward had already climbed into the Volvo. He was staring ahead, his lips set in lines of anger and disgust.

My stomach twisted of its own accord. I was reminded vividly of the seething confrontation we'd had in the hospital, after he'd stopped a van from smearing me across the blacktop. The same prickling unease, the same threat of tears. I turned my face away, pretending to shake out my keys.

"Nope," Alice replied blithely, hesitating by her door. She was unperturbed. "But it would look odd, if the Cullens didn't do _some_ shopping every once in a while."

"If you were judged on clothes' shopping you'd have no problem," I said.

Her laughter tinkled behind me. "True. Which reminds me, can I come over tonight? If you're going to be appearing at a beach party—"

She stopped. I'd heard it too—Edward had hissed. His eyes were on her face, so I could see his expression.

I almost gave up again. I almost abandoned the point I was trying to make.

Sighing, I said, my voice sounding dull, "No make-overs, Alice. It's only a beach party in the theoretical sense. I don't expect much swimming or water-related activities on my part."

I cranked open my door so I wouldn't have to face up to Alice's pout.

"What, giving the surf a miss?" she asked sourly.

"Yep," I replied, without turning around. "I just want to pick up some pebbles," I invented. "La Push has great variety."

"See you at school Monday, then, I guess," Alice said coolly, and she slammed her door. The engine revved and the car swerved out, then rushed down the street and screeched around a corner. I watched it go, my stomach feeling hollow.

Where was the anger to fortify me now? It felt like I'd lost it somewhere between picking up the can of sauce and remembering the argument Edward and I had had last year. And the weeks of silence between us that had followed.

* * *

Dinner was not complicated enough to distract me, and by the time Charlie stomped into the kitchen I was really feeling my sleepless night. Stifling yawns, I ate as much as I could, then surrendered my leftovers to Charlie. He ate with a deep, staid, silent content, and I wished I had Jasper's power—so I could absorb his mood and make it my own.

I considered staying up again, but realized I wouldn't make it. Which left me in quite a quandary.

On the one hand, sleep—how great it would be, to have some release. On the other, what would bubble up?

And then, a more chilling thought—what if there was no one to hear it, anyway? I remembered Edward's facial expression in the car. The anger I could handle, but the disgust? Disappointing him had always felt nigh impossible, due to his inexplicable infatuation with me. But had I finally managed to convince him that I was, in fact, a lousy, selfish person?

My stomach twisted unpleasantly.

This had all gone horribly wrong. Did he even understand the point I had wanted to make? Did I even grasp it anymore?

I showered and climbed listlessly into bed, turning the light off immediately. The rain pattered ceaselessly, a dreary monotone that sounded like a dirge. Despite my exhaustion, my eyes refused to stay shut, and roamed the dark room, pulling over the familiar shapes.

They halted on my desk, the outline of which was flatter than it had been. I lifted myself onto my elbow, turning on the bed lamp again.

It had been cleared of the books and other academia that had cluttered it. Next to my old computer's screen, taking up one entire side of the desk, were rocks of all shapes and sizes, all colours and textures. Some of them were still damp with dirt; others had beads of water on them, as if they had just been pulled from a stream.

I lurched out of bed and fell into the hard chair, picking up the closest rock.

It was jagged and irregular, a dull shade of pinkish gray.

The next was smooth, worn almost to nothing.

Another had clear shards of quartz in it that flashed beautifully when the light hit them.

I folded my hands in my lap and sat, staring, at the mess of minerals. The only rocks missing were the ones from La Push. It was the one place he couldn't go.

Sadness washed through me, and regret, and some more anger. My nerves felt like live wires.

I noticed a note under one of the smallest rocks—its one side was a flat, boring brown, but when you flipped it over, a razor of hazel broke the surface, giving the entire thing depth. The note was folded in four, written on heavy paper in a script that would not look out of place in a turn of the century diary.

_I'm sorry_, it began. _Please forgive me._

_Enjoy your day at La Push. Open your window if you want to speak to me again. I'll wait as long as you need. I love you._

_Please, take care._

And on the other side:

_Perhaps if you love these stones, they will animate too. What is a stone heart to do, once it has tasted life? How can it ever go back? Bella, I know I can't give you all the world's stones, but I can try. _

The last thing I remember was staring at the window, torn, and then sleep took me.

* * *

I woke up again that night, hunched over my desk and stones, sure that something had rapped at my window, but the memory washed out where I staggered upright to put myself in bed. When I woke up that morning, the note was stuck beneath my pillow, a little crumpled. I did not know who put it there.

Lethargically, I dressed, pulling on a thick sweater and two pairs of socks on each foot, as the wind was lashing the rain against the window like it was cracking a whip. I only managed to chew through one bite of cereal before I gave up. I dawdled in the living room, waiting for Mike and considering drowning myself by trying to surf.

I felt like a dog, of course. A dog that had a bone that felt suddenly very plastic, despite it appearing otherwise, but who continued to gnaw at it anyway. I tried to ignore this thought but it refused to be vanquished, so I instead turned my attention to the day ahead.

At the very least, I would be seeing Jacob.

At the very best, I would have a great time. Maybe I could give the party a slip and ride my motorbike instead.

Mike arrived fifteen minutes later, and his facial expression was the exact opposite of the weather: he beamed. To my surprise, his suburban was empty. I'd been expecting at least half a dozen other people, and the sight of the empty seats had me chewing at my lip. Apparently Mike was planning on taking this too far.

I felt like I could kick myself. I should have anticipated this; it wasn't as if Mike hadn't given me enough cause in the past to suspect this kind of behaviour.

Apprehensive, I shot the soaked forest around the Chief's house a panicked look.

"So who are we picking up next?" I asked Mike. I didn't have a choice but to climb into the front passenger seat next to him. I buckled my safety belt and tried to look comfortable.

"No, it's just you and me today," he said, grinning. "Taylor and Austin are picking up the others."

"Oh," I said lamely. "I thought Jessica would be with you," I added, glancing at him.

He grimaced slightly, starting the car. "Nah," was all he said, and I dropped the subject.

I was mulling over the looks and whispers Jessica and Lauren would be giving, and having about, me, probably until we all departed for college, when Mike swore and slammed on the brakes. The safety belt cut into me as I was thrown first forward, then slammed backward into my seat. I heard the tires skidding slightly, and then there was silence.

We'd missed it, but only by about two inches.

"How the hell...?" Mike asked, wrenching open his door.

It was a tree. Not just any tree, a fir tree. A huge fir tree. If evidence was to be believed, it had somehow wrenched its thick roots from the side of an embankment, and slid, in a volley of loose mud, to block the road in its entirety.

"It wasn't here a minute ago!" Mike shouted, turning to face me, his face one big blank.

For a moment, we just stood there, staring at the tree in unified amazement. But we were both distracted by the bright red car that purred around the corner and calmly halted a few feet from the nature monstrosity.

"Oh, my!" Alice chirped, bouncing from behind the steering wheel. Her eyes had popped convincingly as she surveyed the damage, but when she turned to look at me (as Mike's eyes had gone automatically to the car she was driving), there was a mischievous gleam there.

"It wasn't here a minute ago," Mike told her, as if by repeating this statement, the mystery would abruptly solve itself.

"I believe you," Alice said. "We should probably call somebody," she added thoughtfully. "Hey, Mike? Why don't you ride with me? We'll go see Chief Swan."

Mike glanced at me.

"Someone has to watch your car," Alice suggested.

I stared at her disbelievingly. Her returning smile was dazzling.

"Is that okay, Bella?" Mike asked me, eyeing his car now.

"Sure," I said, sourly. "Just hurry."

Mike disappeared into the forest, emerging on the other side of the tree a few moments later.

"Want to drive?" Alice asked him dispassionately.

His reply was a mute, wondering stare at the shiny red car.

"See you in a few," Alice called to me, and then her door clicked shut and the car shuddered down the road, disappearing beyond an intersection.

"Bella?"

He spoke from behind me, hesitating in the fringe of ferns closest to me. Sighing, I turned to face him.

He looked abashed and apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't know she was going to do that," he said.

"Then why are you here?" I asked.

"I just wanted to see you," he answered. "I wasn't going to interfere," he promised, then added, "Really," in response to my skeptical expression. "I didn't hear what she was thinking until the last moment. I respect your decisions, Bella. I understand that they are yours to make."

His eyes burned with sincerity. They were darker, and the shadows beneath them seemed like a tribute to misery.

"Can I just stay here with you until they get back?" he pleaded, when I remained silent. "You don't have to speak to me—I'll leave again as soon as—"

He stopped, eyes flashing to my hand.

It was about the size of my palm. Boring on one side—a dull, depthless brown—but shot through with a streak of hazel on the other.


End file.
